


As Daylight Dies

by AquamarineShadows



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6018432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquamarineShadows/pseuds/AquamarineShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Simmons comes home to Blood Gulch from an assignment at another base, Simmons and Grif become closer to each other, and Grif struggles to accept his blossoming feelings. Meanwhile, a mysterious hurricane-like weather wreaks havoc on Blood Gulch, potentially putting the boys' lives at stake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I started writing almost six years ago and posted on fanfiction.net. It's not yet finished, and I have no idea where it's going! But my estimate is that it will be finished with 6 chapters. I've written 4 and I think I will conclude it after 6.
> 
> My canon knowledge of the RvB world is a bit rusty. I haven't kept up with the new seasons since, like, s10. I had to go and reread the story myself to make sure everything is consistent. Hopefully it won't take me six more years to finish it.

**Simmons' POV**

* * *

 

The smell of mud and munitions clogged the air. The sounds of gunfire and explosions were muffled by pouring rain. Soldiers' pleas for mercy went unheard as they were murdered one by one. We slowly made our way into the Blue base, taking out any guards protecting the fort. Both the Red and Blue soldiers were worn out from days of incessant fire, but we managed to pull ahead during the last few hours of battle. Fatalities were well into the hundreds on both sides.

I turned a sharp corner inside the Blue base and leaned against the concrete wall to catch my breath. I swept my eyes over my surroundings. I heard my commanding officer bark orders from a nearby passage and continued on my way, searching for any remaining Blue refugees. A stifled groan could be heard further down the dark corridor, so I reloaded my M16 and headed in the direction of the sound. I found a wounded Blue hiding in the darkness, clutching his side for dear life. The blood flow was far too great for a chance of survival.

'Might as well put him out of his misery. It's not like he's gonna live either way,' I thought and fired several rounds at the dying Blue. Blood splattered on the floor and walls. The maroon color of my armor camouflaged the blood for the most part. I tried to wipe the blood off of my visor, only causing it to smear.

The sounds of gunfire in the base began to die away, as only a few of the enemy remained. It was unlikely they would cause problems for us anytime soon, so we returned to the comfort of the Red base for the first time in days to recover while we had the chance.

As soon as there were no signs of any Blues on guard, I moved to the roof of our base and removed the top half of my Spartan armor. I set it aside to let the heavy rain wash away some of the blood before looking up at the sky, allowing my upper body to be drenched. The cool rain stung my face, but it was somewhat refreshing. After a half hour of relaxing in the downpour, I returned to my assigned living space and removed the rest of my armor and my soaked body suit.

I dried off the metal plating on my limbs and joints. I preferred to avoid parts of my body rusting if at all possible. I studied my cyborg arm very closely, cursing Sarge and his mechanical skills. At the same time, I was grateful that I was able to aid him in saving a fellow soldier's life and grateful to Sarge for making it so that both of us were able to function normally again. Well, at least _one_ of us was able to function normally.

I took out a can of WD-40 and sprayed my left hand generously with it. I then put the can away and flopped down on my bed.

"You'd better still be in one piece, Grif... What am I saying? Nothing ever happens in Blood Gulch," I muttered to myself. "He's such a fucking moron."

I considered Grif and the others to be very lucky. It had been two years since I was reassigned to the Longshore base. Compared to life in Blood Gulch, Longshore was a living hell. I mean, it was actual war, not just the occasional shooting back and forth. I didn't mind the actual fighting, but we would go days on end without rest. I was getting really sick of it. As much as I hated to admit it, I really missed being stationed at outpost number one with Grif and the others. I previously sent in a transfer request to Red command, but I suspected that until the Blues showed further signs of total defeat at Longshore, my request would not be approved. It had already been six months since I sent it in.

That night I tossed and turned in my bed, my body aching where my organic parts met with my mechanical ones. I dreamed of the barren land in Blood Gulch and the familiar faces of my old team. Donut was as feminine as ever, Sarge still didn't make very much sense, Lopez still hadn't learned English, and Grif... Grif was still my dumbass teammate. I still remembered the base like the back of my hand. Well, like the back of my _real_ hand, anyway.

 

_Grif lay on the roof of Red Base in his boxers and undershirt. His dark brown hair hung over his eyes and shined in the moonlight. He rolled over on his back and stared up at the sky._

_He sighed. "God damn you, Simmons. Why'd you have to go like that? You're even more annoying when you're not here, stupid cockbite."_

_Suddenly the dream took a turn for the worse. A troop of Blue soldiers, much like those I had been fighting during my time at Longshore, snuck around the back of the base. They went unnoticed by Grif, and I assumed neither Sarge nor Donut were aware of what was about to happen. I looked from Grif to the Blues and back at Grif again. I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him what was happening, but I could only stand by and watch the dream before me. When I turned around again, I saw a Blue stealthily making his way to the roof._

_"Move, Grif! You have to move!" I tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out. 'Damn it! Move_ _**now** _ _, Grif!' I thought. He finally stood up as I had so desperately hoped he would, but he drew up short when he heard the click of the enemy loading his shotgun. Grif slowly turned his head and groaned._

_"Fuck..."_

_The Blue prodded his back with the shotgun. "Show me where your supplies are! Now!"_

_"What if I don't wanna?"_

_"Just do it, scumbag. Or else," the soldier threatened._

_"Oh, suck it, Blue!" Grif scowled at the man, only to be roughly pinned to the ground._

_"You wanna say that again?"_

_"I_ _**said** _ _, SUCK IT BLUE!"_

_The Blue looked at him mercilessly and stood up. He stomped on Grif's back to hold him down and put his finger on the trigger of the shotgun. "This'll teach you," he said menacingly._

_The Blue squeezed the trigger of the shotgun, and I watched in terror as he fired several rounds at Grif. Every action thereafter was painfully slow. Grif cried out my name as he grasped at the air in front of him. I stood before Grif, covered in his blood. It was only then I realized I had been the one holding the gun. I wiped the blood off my visor in the same way I did after I killed the injured Blue at Longshore._

_"Why, Simmons?" were the last words out of Grif's mouth. I turned and walked away unphased by anything "I" had just done._

I shot up in my bed, covered in sweat. My hair was still wet from sitting out in the rain. My head throbbed, and the rest of my body still ached.

"Look what you've done to me, Grif."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons moves back to Blood Gulch! How will Grif feel about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I featured Grif's POV in this chapter, though I think that after this chapter and the next, the rest of the story is in Simmons' POV. I do enjoy the humor behind writing for Grif, but for the more intimate bits I would rather use Simmons' interpretation.

**Grif's POV**

* * *

 

I'm telling you, doing nothing has never been easy, especially after Simmons was transferred to Longshore. After he left, Sarge was really irritable. His experiments were more frequent, most of which included new ways to kill me. Once I found him in the simulation room trying out the new turret on the warthog on several simulated versions of me. I thought Blood Gulch was bad before, but after Simmons was gone, I was stuck doing all the work that he did.

I sat behind a massive rock in the middle of the canyon, even though it was clearly labeled "Tucker's rock. Keep out." I figured that was the last place Sarge would look for me, but for the most part I really didn't feel like trying to find a better hiding place. I took my orange helmet off, threw it aside, and ruffled up my matted, brown hair.

"I swear I'm going to kill you next chance I get, Simmons," I said with a sigh. When I actually thought about it, I realized it probably wasn't necessary. Longshore was and still is an active war zone, nothing like Blood Gulch. I started to fall asleep against the tan, spray painted boulder, but the moment I closed my eyes my own helmet was thrown at my face.

"Grif! If you're gonna be miserable, you could at least be miserable and dying!" Sarge said and nudged me with his boot. " _Now,_ I want you to take this crate of equipment to the storage building. Lopez is still working on the new turret for the warthog."

"What about Donut?" I whined and rubbed the sore spot on my forehead.

"Pretty in Pink is working on cleaning up the base. Something about the natural light being outta whack and the cake needs to be decorated," Sarge said.

"Cake? What's he plan on using to make it? Worcester sauce?" I gagged at the memory of the last time he made cookies and used mustard in place of water.

"Don't be stupid, Grif. We ran out of Worcester sauce last month."

"Whatever," I grumbled and shoved my helmet back on my head before hauling the metal crate back to the base. 'What the fuck is the cake for anyway?,' I thought as I opened the rusted door of the storage shed. I shot the padlock fastening the lid to the crate in attempt to spare myself the effort of finding a key. I let the assortment of assault rifles and ammo fall onto the floor. I didn't dare bother to clean up the mess. Just thinking about manual labor gives me a migraine.

When I got back to Red base, Donut was prancing around the so-called kitchen in a hot pink apron with a Gingerbread Man smack dab in the center. Sarge sat at his desk with a seven inch tall action figure of a bright yellow Spartan. I heard him muttering something about a useless bitch-boy and wondered how long he had been playing with the doll. A similar maroon action figure sat on the edge of the desk facing Sarge next to the tools he had been using to make strange adjustments to the yellow figure.

"Would ya look at that, Simmons! That pussy, Grif, needs an amputation. Let's just cut off the head..." he said to the maroon figure as he used a pair of pliers to rip the toy's head off.

'Just walk away, Dex. Back away slowly from the delirious idiot and go back to your room,' I told myself. Sure, it made me mad. I mean, he wasn't even using the right color of armor on "mini-me." There is no use fighting a battle that you will never win, so I snuck past Donut, who was merrily mixing a bowl of fowl smelling goop, and returned to my room. Actually, it wasn't even my room. I moved into Simmon's old room after he left 'cause I nearly broke my neck over a pile of garbage.

I took my helmet off and let my armor fall to the ground with a thunk. I unzipped my black body suit and put on a dirty pair of jeans and a white undershirt. I sat on the bed, studying a shiny piece of metal on the short, white wardrobe next to the bed. At first I thought it was a screw for his arm or something, but then I noticed it was an extra dog tag. I traced my thumb around the edge of the military tag, thinking about all the ways I could destroy it to relieve some frustration. I eventually came to the decision that burning it would take the least effort, but I wouldn't bring myself to do it. I thought it was just because I was lazy, but in a way it felt wrong to even think about hurting it. I let myself fall back on the mattress, throwing the dog tag aside and letting out a muffled groan.

"I'll just sleep. Donut... food... Simmons, you cockbite..." I unintelligibly mumbled to the empty room and shut my tired eyes.

* * *

 

"GRIF! Wake up!" someone yelled in my ear. I rolled onto my stomach and put a pillow over my head.

"Go away," I groaned. The stranger in my room pulled the window shades up, letting a massive amount of sunlight into the dark room. "Urgh, put it back, you fucker...!"

That's one more thing I hate about Blood Gulch -the fact that neither the time of day nor the weather ever change. Ever.

Anyway, whoever the asshole was that decided to come annoy me ripped the pillow off my head yanked me away from the bed. I pushed my dark brown hair out of my eyes and glared at my harasser from the ground. Simmons towered over me. He held his helmet in one hand, the other resting on his hip.

"What the hell are you doing in my room, fuckface?" he demanded.

"YOUR room? You don't even stay in here anymore! There was no reason I shouldn't move into it!"

"What if I came back?"

" _What if_? You know just as well as I do that the probability of you coming back was a snowball's chance in hell, Simmons."

"Go to hell," he said and threw a bolt at me before treading out of the room. (Whichever arm hinge he pulled that out of was beyond me.)

"Already there!" I called after him.

I let out an exhausted sigh, put my armor back on, and picked up my helmet. "Would you relax already, Simmons?" I said as I followed him to the living room. He sat on the couch and played with a loose bolt in his left hand. He stayed quiet for a long time, just staring at the bolt with a scowl on his face.

"Come on, Simmons! Quit acting like such a... a... girl!" I said.

"Remind me again why I bothered coming back to Blood Gulch? It's not like you guys need me," he snapped and narrowed his eyes at me before turning around and heading toward the door. I rolled my eyes and pinned him to the wall.

"Look, you better stop your griping and whining, or else I'm gonna knock you into next week. No one said they didn't want you here, so shut up and go back to your room!" I threatened.

"You did _not_ just send me to my room."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some minor inconsistencies and repetitive dialogue from one chapter to the next, so I've gone through and changed a bit, so if you've read the ff.n version of this story, there are some minor differences. Still working out all the kinks, but I will hopefully have it all tidied up soon.

**Grif's POV**

* * *

 

A week after Simmons moved back to Blood Gulch, I began to remember why I'd wished he was gone in the first place, before he transferred. The mysterious cake that Donut baked for his welcome back party was the only good thing about the entire ordeal, even though he'd made it with soy sauce. Private Kiss Ass returned to his old self within moments of being lectured by Sarge about abandoning his duty as one of few red soldiers in Blood Gulch and second-in-command of the "Slowly Kill Grif and Destroy Everything He's Ever Loved" initiative.

I walked away from the welcome party after Sarge started to give a "toast" to Simmons' return, which generally turned out to be a monologue about himself and how he was so proud of himself for training such a good subordinate. I have never understood how he always has the Red Flag flying behind him during his long speeches, or who the hell sang "Glory, Glory to the Red Team" as he rambled on.

Later that day, I was interrupted from a very peaceful sleep during my "night" watch by a blunt object hitting my head. My helmet prevented a good bit of damage, but it still hurt. I picked up the maroon helmet that had landed next to where I sat and took off my own helmet to rub the back of my head. "What the hell was that for, asshole?!" I said to Simmons without even facing him.

"For leaving in the middle of my welcome back party and not to mention taking over my fucking room while I was gone. I just spent the last few hours disinfecting every piece of my furniture thanks to you, you sloppy son of a bitch."

"Bite me."

"Noooo thank you."

"Not an invitation."

"I really hate you."

"The feeling's mutual," I said and shoved his helmet into his chest. I probably wouldn't have done it if I'd seen sooner that he was just wearing a white t-shirt and shorts, not his armor. The metal from the shoulder plate covering the junction between his skin and his robotic arm clanked with the helmet.

"If you're just going to sleep while you're on watch, why don't you just come inside already?" he said.

He had a valid point, though I couldn't say I was thrilled about sleeping on the floor in the main room of the base again. Since Simmons had moved out, Donut had taken over my room to store his interior decorating and cookbooks. At the time, he'd been using my bed for holding mountains of fabrics in a variety of colors, so I gave up on trying to use the room until he found another place for his junk. I took my armor off and left it in the little corner of my room that still belonged to me, then grabbed a sleeping bag and went into the main room to lay down. I was grateful for the light controls in the base since we never, you know, actually had night. The "night" program on the base's main computer made a really nice night filter for each of the windows. I fell asleep easily, as always, but I had another rude awakening when I was kicked by someone in the dark, causing them to trip over and land on me.

"Oomph!"

"Grif? Is that you?! Jesus, why are you laying in the middle of the floor?" Simmons felt around for my face with his metal hand, to see if it really was me.

"Hey! What the hell are you feeling me up for?!" He retracted his hand immediately, and I hoped that he hadn't noticed what he was grabbing at was my crotch.

"Oh. Uh. I'm sorry," he stammered and quickly scrambled away from me. "But seriously, you shouldn't be laying in the middle of the damn floor like that!"

"At least if we have intruders, it's an easy trap for them to trip over me."

"Yeah, that's exactly how you should think about it... Just get the fuck off the floor and sleep somewhere else."

"Damn it, stop bossing me around." I glared at him angrily in the dark. Well, I glared at the place where I assumed he was standing. Not that it made a difference to either of us. I was just really grouchy from being woken up twice in one night and bossed around. "Just let me sleep."

"Come on, you idiot. You can sleep in my room." He grabbed me by the arms and jerked me up into standing position. I wished that he would have just left me alone instead of messing around in the dark like that because as soon as he pulled me off the ground, he rammed my face into his chest.

"Ouch! Watch what you're doing, you bastard!" I felt a small drop of blood drip down my face —I had cut my cheek on a loose screw on the plate covering Simmons' shoulder. He quickly apologized and ran to get wet paper towel and a band-aid. I followed him into the bathroom where he cleaned up the cut on my cheek. It was unlike Simmons to be so... so caring.

After he finished doctoring me up, he led me to his room and let me sleep on his bed. I quickly fell asleep again, while he slept on the floor next to the bed in the sleeping bag I'd been using for the past week. I dreamed of a quiet, isolated valley in the middle of nowhere, where there was no Red Team or no Blue Team. There was no Sarge or Donut, and there was certainly no Simmons. Though in reality I would be thrilled to be able to nap in a quiet place with no one around, I kept looking for Simmons in the dream. My dream self became distressed when I couldn't find a single trace of him, possibly reflecting how I sometimes felt when I slept in my teammate's bed while he was in Longshore. I wasn't sure at what point I woke up to hear the pitter-patter of rain on the window of the room, but I must have been half asleep as I watched the strange change in weather out the window. I wasn't aware that I was muttering "Simmons, where are you?" until he shook me.

"Were you dreaming?" he asked.

"Yes," I said groggily.

"Ah, well... I guess I'll just go back to sleep."

"Wait." I grabbed his real bicep, though I wasn't entirely sure why. What the hell did I want? For him to cuddle with me?

"Yeah?"

I held his arm like that for a few seconds longer —much longer than I should have. It was more comforting to have him next to me than I thought it should have been. When I realized that I was just laying there with my hand on his bicep, I quickly let go. "Ah, sorry. I'm still out of it."

"Oh, okay."

"Good night, Simmons."

"Good night, Grif."


	4. Chapter 4

**Simmons' POV**

* * *

 

The miracle rainstorm we had the night that I made Grif sleep in my room strangely turned out to be the beginning of a hurricane. It went on for several days, and none of us could figure out how the hell it was raining so much. Until I suggested collecting the rainwater for purification, I hadn't realized how much we were all used to not having water. Unfortunately, my suggestion left me with the task to put the buckets on the roof by myself. Apparently Lopez can do everything else around the base, but he can't go out in the rain because he's a robot. So they sent me instead. Even though half of my body is made of robotic parts from our spare robot kit. Making me half robot.

_Idiots_.

I wouldn't have even minded the rain if it was anything like it was back in Longshore, but this shit was like a cold winter rain back on Earth. While I was dumping the buckets of water into the large reservoir built under the base, I couldn't help but think about the previous night and the feeling of Grif's hand on my arm. He had been calling my name in his sleep as if he were having a nightmare, and when I woke him up he seemed relieved to see me. When he fell back asleep, the expression on his face was so peaceful that I couldn't help but watch him for a good twenty minutes before going back to sleep myself.

The sound of Donut skipping down into the basement brought me back to the present.

"Hey, Simmons!" he said.

"May I help you, Donut?"

"Man, I never knew we even had a basement! Or a reservoir. I mean, why would we have one if we never had any water to begin with?"

Donut never made anything short and to the point, and that moment was no exception. I really just wanted him out of the basement so I could sort out my own thoughts. An image of Grif's calm, sleeping face popped into my mind for a moment, and my face became heated.

"Yep. Gotta get back to work! You should probably go work on that project Sarge wanted you to do. You know. The thing. With the lighting. And the icing. And the paint. So you should go now," I said quickly.

"You're sure acting funny, Simmons." He put a hand on his hip and tilted his head while he studied my awkward behavior. "Oh, and Sarge said to tell you that the rain is starting to leak into the base, so you'd better get back on the roof and fix the leaks."

"Sure. I'll get right on that, Donut. Right after I finish emptying the buckets that are all full," I said through gritted teeth.

"Well, gotta go. Good luck, Simmons!" Donut happily skipped into the rain and quickly back into the safety of the base. I hastily finished dumping the buckets of water into the reservoir and grabbed a tool box with some duct tape. I knew very well that no amount of duct tape would fix the holes in the roof, but apparently Red Command never cared enough to send us useful supplies. I treaded up onto the roof with my arms full of the buckets and duct tape.

After a couple hours of standing in cold, windy rain and chasing rolls of tape that kept slipping from my fingers, I gave up and stomped back into the base. As I slammed the door behind me, I kicked off my water-filled boots and pressed the release button on my armor to take it off along with my soaking wet bodysuit. I dragged my feet behind me on my way to my room and heard a door click shut from behind me.

"Simmons? Where have you been?" After my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the room, I could see Grif standing in my doorway.

"Private Krispy Kreme and Sarge sent me out to fix the leaks in the roof of the base," I said. "Can you hand me that towel and the can of WD-40 on the shelf? I need to take care of some preventative maintenance." Grif picked up the towel and the grease, and studied my back for several moments, probably looking at the scars from the surgery.

"Did it hurt?" he asked as he handed me the towel. "Getting your prosthetics, I mean."

"Huh? Well, I guess it did at the time, but it doesn't really hurt now unless my joints start to rust." I dried off my neck and hair and tried to reach back to my shoulder, but I just couldn't reach it. Suddenly Grif put his hand over mine and took the towel from it. He gently dried off the metal for me and sprayed the WD-40 on the joint in my shoulder. My heart pounded in my chest when I realized how close he was to me, and I blushed when I noticed that we were both in just our underwear. As an occupant of a base consisting of all men, it usually never bothered me seeing the guys half naked. It was just normal. With Grif, it seemed different though. I was suddenly thankful that my back was turned to him.

Grif continued to silently and diligently dry off every nook and cranny of the prosthetic parts of my upper body. When he began to trail his thumb along the seam between my skin and the metal around my shoulder blade, my body stiffened, and Grif withdrew his hand and hung the towel over my shoulder. The sudden realization of the situation I was in left me somewhat confused and speechless.

"Let me go out there next time instead of charging into that storm like an idiot," he grumbled. I turned around to look at him, but he turned away and headed for the door. Without even thinking about what I was about to do, I grabbed him by the wrist. We stood as if we were frozen in time for several moments before I managed to get the words out of my throat.

"Don't go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say I'd promise to try and update before, you know, another 3 years pass. This one is short, but I wanted to pick up from where this one leaves off with Grif's take at least one more time. Not sure if I'll be able to keep my word on the 6 chapters, but I'll burn that bridge when I get to it! :D

**Simmons’ POV**

* * *

 

_“Don’t go.”_   


My fingers wrapped around Grif’s wrist gently, but firmly enough to keep him from pulling away. He looked at me curiously, waiting for me to say something, but neither the thoughts nor the words I needed came to me. I stared at Grif, completely dumbfounded as to what I was planning on even saying. Then I remembered that the hallway he had been sleeping in was full of buckets collecting water from the leaky ceiling.  


“I mean, you’re probably going to knock over all of those buckets on the floor in the hall. Might as well stay in here tonight. You won’t have to worry about waking up in a puddle!” I said. The tension between us relaxed when he turned back toward me and nodded.   


“So I get the bed right?” he said. After those few moments of silence and awkward tension, Grif seemed to go back to his old, lazy self.   


“Hell no, asshole! I invited you to stay the night, not take over my room again!” I threw a pillow at his head.  


“Some host you are, Simmons. Do you treat all of your guests like this, or am I getting the special treatment?” As if he didn’t even hear a word I said, he took the pillow and flopped down on the bed. On _my_ bed. Without a second thought! It was _so_ like that idiot to just lay down and go to sleep instead of even bothering to fight back.  


“Grif! Don’t go to sleep there! Get up you son of a bitch!” I said as I shook his shoulders and tried to roll him to the edge of the bed. Even without all the armor, he was heavier than I anticipated, and the fact that he was already sleeping like a rock didn’t do me any favors. I gave up and fell back onto the bed myself, while my legs hung off the edge of the other side. Before I gave in completely, I grabbed an extra blanket from the shelf and threw it over Grif, then climbed under the covers. I went to sleep as far away from him as possible while still lying on the bed.

 

  
I don’t know what time it was when I woke up, nor do I know how long I slept. One thing I do know is that when I woke up, the first thing I saw was Grif’s face way closer than I would have liked it to be. We were nose to nose with each other. I jerked away from him when the situation became clear, and at that exact moment I saw a flicker of lightning followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The wind howled in the worsening storm, and even after all of the noise, Grif still didn’t move. I’m surprised that I was even able to sleep at all with the guttural sounds of his snoring filling the room combined with the thunder.

“Simmons...”  
  
I froze when he very faintly muttered my name in his sleep. At first I thought he was awake, but the subsequent pig-like snores assured me that was not the case. For the second night in a row, I studied him while he slept. I rolled my eyes at the drool spilling out of his mouth and down one cheek, though I won’t deny that it was kind of cute.  There’s something about the face of a sleeping person that seems to clear away any ill-harbored feelings you may have had toward them previously. Perhaps it’s because the innocence and vulnerability of a sleeping person reminds you that they are also human. My thoughts were interrupted when Grif turned his back to me and farted.  


_That is definitely not cute._  


Since I was still feeling tired, I decided to just lay back down in my spot and deal with the situation in the morning when I woke up. The last thing I remember before falling asleep again is putting a pillow over my face to block out the smell of rotten eggs in the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't keep my word about the 6 chapters thing... Oops. 
> 
> Now you should know why I wanted to go back to Grif's POV once more!

**Grif’s POV**

 

“Grif, get up you son of a bitch!”  
  


I didn’t even bother arguing it or trying to fight to keep my spot in the bed. Every minute spent arguing with Simmons about my sleeping habits is a minute I could be actually sleeping. Listening to his nagging was infringing upon my precious dreamtime. I lay there for several moments trying to conjure up the energy to move to a more comfortable position, which was a mistake in itself because I let my guard down. Simmons pulled me by my arm and flipped me over, so I opened my eyes even though I fought so desperately to sleep through his bitching.  
  


Simmons was hovering over me while he pinned my wrists to either side of my head. I was about to open my mouth to give him a smartass comment about wanting to at least go on the first date before he deflowered me, but I forgot what I was going to say when I noticed the dreamy look on his face. Simmons – the serious, overachieving, ass kissing soldier that would have hit me with the warthog had Sarge ordered him to do it – was blushing. The look of awe on his face made it seem like he had just discovered a cave full of twinkies and precious gems.  
  


_That’s right, motherfuckers. I’m a diamond. Or a twinkie. Why not both?_   
  


I’m not sure how long Simmons and I stared at each other like that, but the longer I looked at him, the more appealing his lips became. His unsteady breathing and flushed face made him look innocent, but the contours of his finely defined muscles betrayed this innocence with an overwhelming sense of masculinity.  
  


“Simmons?” I called his name to see if he was even aware of what was going on, but he didn’t even seem to notice. I glanced from his lips to his abs and back to his lips again before giving in and pulling him down on top of me. A surprised noise escaped from his lips when they crashed into mine. They were soft and tasted like strawberry ice cream, and I wanted more of them.  
  


I flipped Simmons onto his back and rolled on top of him while kissing him fervently. I gripped his hair with one hand and took his hand in my other. He snaked his free arm around my waist and ran his hand up my back before he pulled me closer. I trailed hot kisses from his jaw to his neck to his shoulder. Simmons shivered underneath me and very weakly moaned my name when I started to leave bite marks along his non-bionic shoulder.  
  


Suddenly I fell onto the cold, hard floor with a thunk. I blinked my eyes several times to bring them to a focus, and I remembered that I had fallen asleep on Simmons’ bed some time ago. I peeked over the edge of the bed and saw him sound asleep on the spot in the bed next to where I was previously sleeping. Even when he sleeps he’s a fucking neat freak. He didn’t toss or turn even once, and the covers on his side of the bed stayed perfectly still as they were when he made his bed the previous morning. Normally, I would have just called him a prick and went back to sleep, but I couldn’t shake the dream I’d just woken up from.

I walked around the base aimlessly for a good hour before I felt tired enough to go back to sleep. At one point I’d even dunked my head in a bucket of rainwater to clear my mind. I was grateful when my eyelids became heavy at last. Out of habit, I started to walk back to my sleeping spot on the floor in the hall, but I tripped over a bucket along the way and totally abandoned the idea. With a sleeping bag in one arm, I trudged forward into Simmons’ room and set my sleeping bag on the floor next to the bed, on the side that I had previously been sleeping on. I tried everything within my power to think about something other than my dream in hopes that my efforts would prevent me from having the same dream when I fell asleep again. A small part of me admitted that I didn’t mind quite as much as I should have.  
  
The most important thing is that Simmons never knew about any of this, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grif does stupid things. A shock to all, I know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll finish uploading this to fanfiction.net but I'm honestly too lazy to do that at the moment.
> 
> The story is finally all coming together for me. I'm leaving for vacation in a little over a week so I'll try to finish up the next chapter before I leave considering the cliffhanger I'm leaving.
> 
> Also I'm updating the description of the story because this story has taken a different turn than what I originally thought it would be.

**Simmons’ POV**

* * *

The morning after Grif took over my bed again, I woke up to an empty space where he would have been. I was tempted to just sprawl out on the bed and go back to sleep now that it was mine again, but the little alarm clock on the other side of my room didn’t want me to do that. It was a small, plain alarm clock, and the alarm itself was a recording of Sarge’s voice, spliced together from various occasions.  
  


“Simmons, wake up! Simmons, wake up!” it barked over and over again until I climbed out of bed to turn it off. I glanced at myself in the mirror and combed my messy hair before putting on my bodysuit and armor. The heavy rain still persisted outside. After several days of this weather, I’m surprised that the canyon itself had not yet turned into a lake. I headed toward the central control room of the base where Sarge and Donut had taken up refuge since the rain started, but on my way I tripped over a very large log in the middle of the hallway and landed face first into a bucket full of rainwater. The log made some grunting noises, and that was when I realized I’d just trampled all over Grif.  
  


“Grif?! What are you doing sleeping out here? Didn’t we go over this the last time I tripped over you?”  
  


He grumbled and turned away from me, probably still half asleep. “Fuck off Simmons. Just let me sleep,” he said, still with his back turned to me.  
  


“At least get out of the middle of the hall, you idiot! If you’re going to be useless again today, please do it somewhere else,” I said as I kicked his shoulder. Grif muttered something incomprehensible and crawled away in his sleeping bag like a caterpillar, off into some dark corner.  
  


When I walked into the control room, Donut was knitting some new curtains for the base, and Sarge was polishing his shotgun. One day I would really like to know where Donut even gets these sewing supplies from.  


 

_ Maybe he orders them on Ebay? Does Fedex even ship interplanetarily? More importantly, is interplanetarily even a word? Of course it is, don’t be ridiculous, Dick. It’s not like I’m making up mythological creatures. _

 

I helped Sarge tinker with some new features on the warthog for most of the day. Everything seemed mostly normal, but I couldn’t help feeling like something was missing. Then I remembered that I hadn’t seen nor _smelled_ Grif in the base since I ran into him in the hallway early in the morning. I took a quick walk around the base to see if he was just napping in a corner somewhere, and to my surprise, I couldn’t find him. I briefly considered the thought that he may have gone outside to get some fresh air, but Dexter Grif doesn’t go outside unless you force him to–even on a sunny day.  
  


The sky grew dark and green, and the steady pitter-pattering of the rain quickened so that it sounded more like the base was sitting under Niagara Falls. I had jokingly thought about this mysterious canyon we live in flooding, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I certainly never thought it would even last this long. I stood at the window worrying about our well-being in the base when the alarm system on the intercom went off, nearly knocking me over with surprise.  
  


“Attention, Red base: This is a message from the Interplanetary Weather Association. Our scientists have spotted abnormal weather patterns in Blood Gulch. Please remain in your base due to danger of strong winds above 40 miles per hour and rising flood waters. I repeat, please remain in your bases until help arrives. Red Command will send emergency aid to you within the hour.”  
  


The large screen in the center of the command room turned on with a better view of the storm going on outside. In some parts of the canyon, the water was rising rapidly. In the middle of the screen, I saw a smaller valley between Red and Blue bases was beginning to flood, and right in the middle of that valley was an orange suit of armor standing on a small island.  
  


****_“Grif!”_  
  


I rushed to the storage closet where we keep emergency supplies and other oddities and grabbed a rope with a grappling hook and a couple of life vests. I threw the door to the base open and slammed it behind me as I ran into the storm toward the raging waters in the valley just below.

  
_ I swear if that idiot dies I’m going to kill him. _


End file.
